These little serenades on the nightly ramble are turning
into a regular feature. Maybe I should stop making them, since regular features
can become tedious, but have another one for good measure. Tonight’s little
things of note:
It appears my dire presumption regarding the village pub was
premature. It was open again tonight, although there were no cars on the car
park so I still think the writing is on the wall.
The crescent moon looked mildly bizarre. It was coloured
light orange, and hung at a jaunty angle just above the horizon. It appeared so big and so close that I fancied
I could see the strings holding it aloft.
A meteor sped across a small arc of the southern sky, leaving
a silver trail before expiring.
Despite the windows of a certain kitchen being laden with
condensation, it looked as though somebody was having chicken for dinner.
The nightly gaggle of planes going to and from EMA continued
to wink seductively.
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